


Until We Kiss Again

by adrift_me



Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Christmas, M/M, Mistletoe, Yule, Yuletide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 22:25:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17211965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrift_me/pseuds/adrift_me
Summary: Yuletide is the time for festivities and surprise kisses under the mistletoe; for Corvo they are caused by a mischievous deity that likes his kisses greatly.





	Until We Kiss Again

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Holidays everyone! I hope you are having good time, and if you don't celebrate anything, then that you are having good winter/summer days.
> 
> For me this is my last fic this year and a small gift to all my readers. Thank you so much for sticking with me this entire year and I hope I see you all next year with my new works published.
> 
> With tumblr's purge, you can now find me on [tumblr](http://a-driftamongopenstars.tumblr.com/) as well as [DreamWidth](https://a-driftamongopenstars.dreamwidth.org/). Come chat with me? :)

Here and there Dunwall Tower is decorated with gleaming bits and bobs, glass ornaments and lush branches of pine trees, draped and weaved with silken red ribbons. Yuletide has arrived swiftly and almost unnoticed for the Empire, and it is only by the hardworking hands of the Tower staff that the interior looks festive.

There was a wonderful hearty dinner and one too many glasses of punch that Corvo downed in celebration. He is not drunk, only a little tipsy and smiling more than he usually does. 

Up on his way to the roof he passes a suit of armor, its helmet decorated with a simple pine tree wreath and a large red silken sash. Heavy curtains are hanging loose, and Corvo pushes one a little aside to look out of the window. Down in the yard snow is falling heavily, piling up in smooth snowdrifts that no one will disturb until tomorrow morning. The city is blurred through the frosty glass, and lights look magical in the darkness of the night. Lamps are lit low in the hall, and there is something wonderfully magical and Yule-like eerie about this time of night.

Surreal, at the very least.

Corvo stumbles through an entryway, apologizing to a door casing he accidently hit with his forehead. As a memory of the accident he now has a red bump on his forehead and dull pain.

“My, my, Corvo, I have not even stepped under the mistletoe and you are already kissing doorways,” a soft drawling voice says, wrapping around him. Corvo looks around and sees his ever elusive god, eyes black as a night and lips so familiarly soft.

“What are you doing here?” he asks as the Outsider approaches.

“Celebrating Yuletide, of course,” he says, standing impossibly close, so close that Corvo feels the smell of the Void. Outsider’s fingers, smooth and cool, brush against Corvo’s forehead and his light insobriety vanishes, his mind clear and sharp again. But not too much, because when he is not inebriated, he is foolishly drunk on love for his god.

He slides his arms around the Outsider’s torso, ever so thin and holdable, and presses him gently to the entryway.

“Thank you,” Corvo says, leaning forward to catch a kiss off the Outsider’s lips, but he pulls back cleverly, holding Corvo’s jaw. They dance around each other always, Outsider’s passive power and control and Corvo’s passion as well as submission. Sometimes one wins over the other, other times they let each other win.

The Outsider looks up a little and narrows his eyes. And his lips spread into a smirk as he looks back at Corvo who follows his gaze.

“It seems whoever put this little branch of mistletoe here knew that there would be people under it,” he drawls, and Corvo chuckles.

“Because clearly it was not you who put it there.”

“I am not as cryptic as you think, Corvo. If I want a kiss, I ask for that kiss,” he says, brushing Corvo’s thick hair.

“Oh yes, and this is why last time you had to talk about the virtues of romance to make me realise you want to kiss. Or when you told me how your most faithful followers yearn your attention and kiss your portraits, and that had to lead me to the idea that you want me to kiss you.”

“You are my most faithful follower, after all, Corvo,” the Outsider says, blushing only a little. Corvo laughs and presses him closer to his chest and to the doorway.

“So yes, I do think you put that mistletoe here and waited out the time for me to come back.”

“Well, since we are already under it, will we kiss?” Outsider says, his voice quiet, smiling and needy. And Corvo cannot help it, leans in and presses his lips to the insufferable deity. Their kiss is deep and warm and slow, as the man and his god enjoy each other. Somewhere further down the hall a grandfather’s clock, that has seen so much, strikes midnight. But Corvo and the Outsider don’t part their lips, only press closer, tongues tasting each other softly.

Soon they will hide in Corvo’s room, lest a guard or a maid notice them. And mistletoe will magically disappear, but the magic of festivity and Yule won’t. It will settle in the fireplace to watch as two lovers go into the night, surrounding each other with warmth and love and happiness that follows every Yuletide, and many more to come.


End file.
